Midnight Sun Ballet Studio Scene
by Noonebutme
Summary: One shot. This is my version of the events leading up to and including the ballet studio scene from Edward's perspective.


I'd never felt so powerless in my entire existence. My Bella, my reason for being, my little, soft, brave, kind angel, was being hunted down by a repulsive predator, and all I could do was sit helplessly on an airplane, every second putting her in more danger. I burned with shame at the rationalizations I'd made for keeping myself near to her. I'd told myself that she needed me to protect her, but look what I'd done! I'd always known, deep down, that I would cause her harm, and now I could no longer deny the stupid, selfish fiend that I was! I could feel the soft growl smoldering in my chest as my agony accelerated quickly toward the brink of madness.

Carlisle, sitting in the seat beside me, turned his head at the sound. He knew well enough that this was not a time for talking—I was in no frame of mind to be comforted or absolved. However, he did throw me a cautious glance when he heard the sound rumbling in my chest. Although he was considerately trying to control his thoughts, I did distinguish an infuriating undertone of pity in his thoughts—and, worse still, a maddeningly confident feeling of hope.

I threw a glance out the window, which was a bad idea. From the height, the world below seemed to inch forward so slowly! I told myself that it was much faster than running, but at least when I ran, I knew that I was actually _doing_ something, making some effort. At least when I was running, the earth didn't crawl along agonizingly slowly—it was always behind me. I had become stone still in my anguish, and so I forced myself to close my eyes and lean my head against the seat. I was too overcome with emotion to bother to keep up with human pretenses, yet I had enough of a sense of responsibility that I would at least try to pass off my stillness as sleep.

I knew we would begin our descent in a few seconds. When the plane angled downward, I began breathing again, fast, as if quickening my breaths would quicken the speed at which we glided toward the airport. Every inch brought me closer to her, and I felt as though I could already smell her irresistible aroma, feel her satin soft cheek against mine. All I wanted was to hold her in my arms. That was the next step. Just to get her into my arms. Then, at least for a short moment, I would be sure she was safe.

The second the "ding" of the seatbelt light turning off sounded, I squeezed in front of Carlisle (annoying because I normally would have hopped over him—a bit conspicuous, though) and darted into the aisle. I got to the door of the plane before it had even opened. I felt Carlisle approach behind me.

_Please, relax,_ he pleaded silently. But before I could acknowledge his silent comment, the door opened and I ran as fast as _humanly_ possible down the corridor to the gate. My eyes searched for Bella, but they only found Alice. She was alone. My instant reaction was terror—what had happened to Bella and Jasper???

_It's okay, Edward. She's getting breakfast with Jasper. She's fine._

I stopped right beside her, my eyes still searching down the wide hallway for a glimpse of her.

"She's fine, Jasper's with her, she's just getting some breakfast," Alice explained to Carlisle.

"Where is she? I need to see her!" I said frantically.

"Edward, don't worry, Jasper won't let—" and she froze, her eyes wide in horror.

"_NO!"_ I shouted when I saw what was in Alice's mind. She didn't know how, but she saw Bella running out of the airport alone, escaping to the ballet studio Alice had seen in her earlier visions. In that same second I ran, too fast, following her scent. I searched for Jasper's mind and found him, waiting outside the ladies restroom, beginning to get suspicious. _Okay, this has been too long. Something must be wrong…_he thought. I didn't give a damn what anyone thought or saw—I reached the ladies room where Jasper was waiting and bolted past him leaving him, momentarily staggered, behind me. I threw open the door, almost ripping it off the hinges in my haste, and paused for a fraction of a second.

"Bella!" I bellowed, my voice echoing off the tile walls and floor. The only response was a chorus of gasps coming from the women in the room.

_Wha--?_

_Hey!_

_Get out!_

… were the thoughts that were screaming at me in the instant before they were voiced out loud. In that fraction of a second, with horror, I spied a second door opposite the one I had entered. Another exit! I ran through it—unfortunately, it was supposed to have been pulled toward me, so I crashed through the wooden door before I could think to stop. Every head turned to the sound of the door smashing to pieces, sending splinters and sawdust and chunks of wood flying in every direction. "_Damn!" _I muttered, furious with myself for being so rash, but unable to pause in my desperation. Her scent led to an elevator 30 feet away. My eyes flashed, searching for a staircase. There was an emergency exit next to the elevators, and so I dashed through that door (taking enough care this time to open it properly), which took me to a winding set of concrete stairs. Since I was alone in the stairwell, I used the white metal railing as a springboard to jump down two stories to the ground. I pushed open the door into the brightest light I'd seen in years. People were bustling around in every direction, taking bags out of their trunks, waiting for rides, checking their luggage, hugging hello and goodbye. Luckily, I had emerged under a large overhang, so I was safe in shadow… for the moment. But one step off the curb would bring me into that blinding, beating sunlight that was in front of me. The sky was a brilliant blue that looked like it had never been touched by a cloud; the vegetation off the highway was only waist-high and offered no shade. The land was flat, open, and sprawled out before me. My face froze as I surveyed my expansive prison. For one short moment, I recalled Bella's description of this place, her fondness for the landscape that could very probably keep me from following her further. I looked for something, anything, that would hide my skin. Unfortunately, this was not the kind of weather that necessitated long sleeved shirts and ski masks. _Isn't anybody traveling to Aspen?_ I thought dryly. Mercifully, there was a stout woman with a grey hooded sweatshirt resting over her arm 10 yards away. I ran to her, snatched it from her arm, and slipped it over my head in one movement. The sweatshirt was a little large on me, which worked to my benefit. I pulled the hood low over my face, tying it so it wouldn't fall back, and then I hid my hands inside the sleeves by gripping the ribbed elastic in my fist from the inside. By the time I reached the edge of the shadows, I was sufficiently hidden. I ran, still at a pace somewhat feasible for a human, along the winding road leading onto the highway. Unfortunately, her scent became fainter as I went along, and before I had gone one mile on the highway, it had ghosted away. I didn't know where I was going, but I couldn't just stop, so I continued blindly, desperately down the road in that direction. There were few enough cars on the road that I _finally_ dared to run at full speed, faster than the speed limit, faster than all the other cars. I searched for any hint of her scent, but found nothing.

Alice had seen her in a ballet studio. But she hadn't told me the address, so I didn't know where to look. Without Bella's scent to guide me, it would take me hours to find the right place. And she didn't have hours.

I had failed. I had failed miserably to keep Bella safe. I knew I was dangerous for her, and in my selfish, disgusting self-indulgence, I had indeed led her on the path of her demise. Why would she have run from Jasper? What would possibly have motivated her to find James on her own? I recalled that night in Port Angeles—merely one week ago, a week ago today—and remembered seeing her surrounded in the alley. Small, helpless, too clumsy to run, too scared to scream, and too weak to fight back. She didn't stand a chance against those men. I remembered the hate I had felt toward Lonnie for wanting to harm her. Oh, yes, I was the hero then, wasn't I? And now, only one week later, within a mere three _days_ of telling me she loves me, I have already failed her. If James were to kill her in that ballet studio today, then _I_ was her murderer! Though I may not have shed her blood myself—a miracle in itself, it would still be on my hands. I stopped running abruptly and fell to my knees. At the rate I'd been going, I would have reached Utah before nightfall. I had no idea what to do, how to proceed. My thoughts were drifting away from the ballet studio and toward my future, or what was left of it. When Bella was gone, so was I. Bella was my world now, and without her, I disappeared. And I would find a way to disappear. I was aware of the sound of a car approaching. What I wouldn't give to be mortal for just this one moment. The car was coming fast, too fast to stop if I jumped out in front of it. If I were human, that's all it would have taken. Just two seconds. Easy.

The car really was approaching fast. Very, very fast. I don't know if I'd ever seen a human drive so quickly outside of a racetrack. Then the thoughts of four members of my family drifted into my thoughts and my hope was revived. I started running again, not so fast as before. I waited for the car to come close to me and then picked up my speed. At the same second Emmett pushed the rear passenger door open, I jumped through the small opening and hauled the door shut behind me.

"Nice car," I commented wryly. Renewed hope lightened my spirits just enough to joke, unenthusiastic as it was.

"Nissan 350Z, 3.7 liter V-6 engine, 330 horsepower," Alice said lightly from the passenger seat, sounding like a car commercial. "Relatively inconspicuous, conveniently located in the Sky Harbor International Airport parking garage, with a magnetic spare key case under the tire well and an optional GPS navigation system." She indicated the small screen with a map on it, programmed for 58th Street and Cactus. The ballet studio.

_We're going to make it in time, Edward. I'm almost positive,_ Alice thought, although she was obviously straining to hide something from me.

"Alice, what is it?" I asked suspiciously. I looked to my left, where Emmett and Jasper were squeezed beside me in the backseat of the car. They clearly didn't know what Alice was hiding from me. But Carlisle did.

"Carlisle?" I demanded.

"We're not going to keep anything from you, Edward. I just wanted to give you a warning before Alice shows you what she told me," he said from the driver's seat. "Prepare yourself, Edward, it's not going to be easy for you to see. Go ahead, Alice."

I knew that if Carlisle took the trouble to warn me, it was going to be bad. Alice had told me we were going to make it in time. Was she lying? Is that why her thoughts were so strained? I steeled myself for whatever horrible vision she was about to show me. All she had to do was relax her thoughts and let them flow freely to show me—it was already on her mind. A strange, muffled bellow, rang out from my chest. A sob? A groan? I had no name for the sound, but whatever it was, it was pure anguish.

I watched James and Bella, together, in the darkened dance studio. The actions were fuzzy, as he wouldn't decide on his movements until he acted on them. But what I did see was that he was not going to kill Bella. Not at first. No, it would take him hours to get there. I saw him with a video camera, filming as he tortured her, as he broke her bone by bone. Crushing her, throwing her across the room, limp as a rag doll. Trying to keep her conscious as long as he could so that he could relish every scream, every plea. He wouldn't kill her until she begged me to avenge her. Meanwhile, Bella's future dictated that she would not waver, no matter what he did to her.

There was only one possibility that we wouldn't make it there in time to save Bella. The only way the future would change was if James drew blood. If he smelled her blood, he wouldn't be able to drag out the torture for as long as he had planned. If we didn't make it before he got too thirsty, we would be too late.

"I'm… so sorry, Edward," Alice said in quietly, and in her thoughts, I felt the pain this was inflicting on her too. "But do you see? We can save her. There's a good chance we can save her."

Jasper and Emmett were silent, trying to be respectful, but curiosity was raging in their heads.

"He's—" my voice broke. "She's going to be hurt," I said in response to my brothers' thoughts. "Even if we make it there in time, she's… she's…" A choking sob cut me off. Seeing her in pain was utterly unbearable. My heart, only recently reawakened, reawakened by Bella, hardened into lead in my chest. I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, resting my forehead against Alice's headrest. My hands pushed the hood off my head and I interlocked them tightly at the nape of my neck.

"Okay, come on, man," said Emmett, massaging my shoulders as if I were a prizefighter about to enter the ring. "We'll be there in a few seconds. Carlisle will be able to take care of Bella, and between the four of us, we'll finish James off in five minutes." I nodded, letting rage burn through my despair.

"There," said Carlisle, pointing ahead. He screeched to a stop.

"All right, let's go!" called Emmett as we exited the car. The time it took me to get from the car to the ballet studio was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I didn't know what to expect when we walked through those doors, but all I could hope was that I would be able to see my Bella smile at me again.

My mind is very quick when it comes to mathematical calculations, and almost unerringly precise. I've just always had a knack for it, probably, to a certain degree, even when I was a mortal. But an interesting thing that happens during the vampire conversion is that one's capacity for thought expands dramatically, especially the part of the brain that processes numeric computations. This seems to relate directly to our keener senses—when we hunt, we instinctively know exactly where we are in relation to other predators and our prey, down to the tiniest millimeter. We can gauge our speed and compare it to other creatures around us. We can hunt a racing cheetah from 20 yards away, and can easily synchronize our spring to strike precisely at his throat in one fluid motion. My mind is well-equipped to process fragments of time down to the tiniest fraction of a second.

And yet, even my mind couldn't measure the impossibly minute portion of a microsecond that it took me to get from the car to the door of the ballet studio. It felt as though I was going just barely slow enough that time was still moving forward. Maybe faster. Perhaps I was so fast that time stopped.

Perhaps I was literally moving at the speed of time.

Yet, somehow, this was plenty of time for my mind to be in several places at once.

First of all, it was crucial that I prepare myself for whatever I may find on the other side of those doors. I had to remain in control. I didn't know yet how badly Bella had been hurt—the idea twisted my stomach—but there was no doubt that, no matter what my intentions may be, she _would_ be hurt… or worse… if I forgot for one moment how intensely fragile she was. I couldn't hold her, couldn't help her, if I let my emotions overwhelm me.

Secondly, I registered that Bella's scent was extremely potent, even from outside of the building, which brought on a crazed panic. I had my theories about why the smell was so strong to me at that moment, one of which was… unbearable. It could have been that I'd been apart from her for longer than I had been since before our afternoon in the meadow, and I was no longer desensitized. Possibly, it was because I was so focused on her that her scent screamed to me in ways that her thoughts didn't. Perhaps I was afraid of losing her, of never inhaling her fragrance again, and so my body was automatically hoarding all of the Bella-infused air it could while it lasted. But there was a more logical, and far, far more horrifying explanation, and that was that the perfume of Bella's blood was so rich at this moment because it was no longer filtered through her skin, but was flowing freely, concentrating the open air. For once, the idea wasn't terrifying because I wouldn't be able to restrain myself, but because, according to Alice's vision, Bella wouldn't survive long after her blood had been spilled.

So what then? What if the Bella beyond those doors was alone, ashen, lifeless? A horrifying image smacked hard into me at that thought. Although I knew that this image was my own nightmare and not a glimpse into one of Alice's psychic visions, it was still so ghastly that it threatened to overwhelm me. The image was of the mirrored room. It was large and dim, and empty except for a table in one corner, two utilitarian chairs spaced far apart against the far wall, a tv cart on the eastern wall, and, just off-center of the smooth wooden floor, was a small pile of clothes and hair and limbs. The clothes were bloodstained and torn, exposing shocking flashes of ice-white skin, decorated with light dove grey patches where the bruises had been before the body had been drained, and two or three jagged-edged tears in the flesh. The long brown hair was tangled, matted with black clumps of dried blood, and splayed violently across the floor and partially covering her face, which was frozen into the agonized grimace that had been her final expression. I would run to her, and gather her stiff body against my chest. I would brush her hair from her face and press my lips to her cold forehead, and I would take a good look at the consequence of my selfishness. And then I would die. I would go to the Volturi and beg them to destroy me. And if they wouldn't, I would find a way to make them. All I knew was that if Bella was gone, then so was I.

To my horror, the scene that greeted me when I entered the building was not so different from the grotesque image in my mind. Bella was lying, limp, in a pool of her own blood, just as I had envisioned. Her face was twisted with pain. Her blood-soaked hair was wild around her head. But she was not alone. Her arm was raised, apparently with great effort, in a feeble attempt to protect her face from James, who hovered darkly over her, his head inclined toward her, growling with lust as his mouth inched toward her upraised hand.

Involuntarily, my own fierce growl escaped my chest and echoed throughout the room. "Oh, no, Bella, no!" I cried desperately. I let Emmett and Jasper push past me to pull James off of Bella, and I rushed to her side, with Carlisle and Alice on my heels. I barely noticed the abrasive screeching sound as my brothers began to rip James into pieces in the corner behind me. All my senses were consumed with the maimed girl beneath me. I could never have imagined the degree of pain it caused me to see her hurt. Besides her shallow, uneven pants, the only movement in her body was her head rolling slightly from side to side. I didn't know what to do! I cried out desperately once again, pretending she could hear me. "Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, Bella please!" I begged. She couldn't leave me! I couldn't be too late! I made it in time, she was alive, I could save her—I must save her! But all of my medical training left me and I was lost and useless. Without taking my eyes off of her face, I pleaded, "Carlisle!" He went to Bella's other side and began examining her torn scalp. Why weren't her eyes open?! Come back to me, Bella, come back! But she was so weak, so broken. I couldn't bear it! I was losing her! "Bella, Bella, no," I entreated, "oh please, no, no!" I choked on the words and my breathing became strange grunts, dry sobs. Bella flinched slightly under Carlisle's touch, then gasped and opened her eyes. Her beautiful eyes! "Bella!" I cried eagerly.

"She's lost some blood, but the head wound isn't deep," Carlisle said calmly. "Watch out for her leg, it's broken."

_That bastard!_ I thought. I cried out in rage—how could he dare to damage something so perfect? What kind of perverse, sadistic lunatic could take advantage of a young, innocent girl's mortal fragility? Although leaving Bella's side was not an option, a part of me longed to be the one to set the fiend's dismembered body aflame. But there was no question of me leaving her side. Her eyes were strained open, as though it took all of her strength just to lift her lids.

"Some ribs, too, I think," Carlisle continued, as I looked helplessly on.

"Edward," Bella whispered, slow and heavy.

Oh, that voice! I still wasn't quite sure if she was conscious or not, but I grasped at whatever hope I could find. "Bella, you're going to be fine. Can you hear me, Bella? I love you."

"Edward," she repeated.

"Yes, I'm here."

"It hurts," she said feebly.

That statement tore through my body like I was being slashed apart. Bella never let herself show people when she was hurt or weak. The fact that she said it aloud revealed to me the extent of the damage I'd done. How I longed to take her pain away! What could I do? "I know, Bella, I know," I said, trying in vain to comfort her. I was at an utter loss for what to do, so I once again turned to my father. "Carlisle, can't you do anything?" I implored.

"My bag, please," he requested, and Alice complied. "Hold your breath, Alice, it will help." I had been so unaware of everything around me that I hadn't noticed Alice's intense discomfort amid the free-flowing blood. It touched my still heart that she stayed with Bella, and that Bella was safe in her hands. My own throat was on fire and I was torn between two desires, each stronger than I'd ever known anyone to feel in all my years. The first was an almost-uncontrollable craving for her blood, and the other was an inconsolable longing to take away her pain. But, mercifully, the thought of losing her was so unbearable that, for the moment, I was no threat to her.

"Alice?" Bella searched around blindly to try to see her.

"She's here, she knew where to find you."

"My hand hurts," she whimpered.

I cringed, knowing that her "hand" was her way of saying that her entire body was hurting, but she was clearly trying to downplay it for my sake. "I know, Bella. Carlisle will give you something, it will stop." I glanced frantically at Carlisle, wishing he would hurry. Seeing her body ravaged like this was driving me to the brink of madness. Her head was in need of stitches, bruises were already forming all over her body, her broken leg was limp and twisted into an unnatural position, and her broken ribs made it difficult for her to breath, much less speak.

And yet in the instant I had that thought, Bella jolted to life, and screamed, "My hand is burning!"

My eyes widened in horror. Something was horribly wrong. "Bella?" I asked in alarm.

She began to flail about wildly despite the broken bones. "The fire!" she shrieked. "Someone stop the fire!"

Her hand flew toward me, and then I saw it. The large double crescent on her hand, oozing blood. "Carlisle, her hand!" I shouted in panic.

"He bit her!" For the first time, Carlisle lost his careful composure, shocked and frightened beyond rational thought. This was a medical problem that was out of even his league. I choked on my breath.

"Edward, you have to do it," Alice said, brushing away the tears streaming down Bella's cheeks.

Finish the job. "No!" was my initial reaction, but the truth is, my mind was racing. We couldn't be sure that enough of James' venom would be in her system to save her. Even if there was barely enough, the transformation would still take days and days with only one injection so far from her heart. If Carlisle or I forced more venom into her system, it would heal her faster, without unnecessary risks or pain. When it did, she could be mine forever, not just for a few short decades. She would be safe, durable, virtually indestructible. What a comfort that would be to me! Her blood would never torment me—she would be safe from me in every way. The only danger would be that I would love her too much, more than her heart could handle.

But how could I live with myself if I let that beautiful soul of hers go? She deserved better. She could have something that was taken from me and every member of my family. The chance to die, the chance to move onto whatever waited on the other side of death. And, like my family, she wouldn't have a choice in the matter. If this happened, she would be trapped, condemned to this fate whether she liked it or not. And it would be worse for her—she had a family, friends, admirers, a future, things that my family and I would not have had. She would hate me! But what could be done?

"Alice," Bella moaned in agony.

"There may be a chance," Carlisle said, preparing the surgical needle and suture thread.

"What?" I asked eagerly.

"See if you can suck the venom back out. The wound is fairly clean."

"Will that work?" Alice asked, her astonishment an echo of my own thoughts.

"I don't know," said Carlisle, quickly and capably suturing her head wound closed. "But we have to hurry."

"Carlisle, I… I don't know if I can do that." My own weakness could cost Bella her soul—or her life. I didn't know which was worse. I was in hell. Perhaps Carlisle could…

"It's your decision, Edward, either way," Carlisle said impatiently. "I can't help you. I have to get this bleeding stopped here if you're going to be taking blood from her hand."

He was right, of course. I had to make a decision. Not only was I in no frame of mind to attend to Bella medically, but I also couldn't pull myself away from her face. I couldn't think.

"Edward," she pleaded, begging me to help her, still writhing in pain. But in trying to _save_ her, I could easily _kill_ her. What was the greater risk?

"Alice, get me something to brace her leg," Carlisle commanded. Alice grabbed a pair of floorboard planks that had been torn up in the fight. "Edward, you must do it now, or it will be too late."

I took a deep breath, letting her potent scent burn my throat, wondering how much worse it would be when I took her blood in my mouth, as her warmth radiated through me. The screeching sound of James being ripped apart raged on behind me at the same time her eyes locked with mine, and I made my decision. I couldn't bear to have any part of James inside of her. I would suck his venom out.

I took her arm in my hands firmly and deliberately. I opened my mouth and matched my lips to the shape of his. And I began to feed.

The worst part was that it wasn't my instinct that took over. It was the monster within me. Even mingled with the taste of the venom in her blood, her flavor was astonishing. This was the experience of a never-ending lifetime, a moment that was so satisfying that any other vampire would assume only existed in legends and fantasies. It was ecstasy, a carnal pleasure unlike anything else. This was the only heaven I would ever experience—a transient heaven of dark shadows and malicious demons and the cruel taunting of fleeting rapture. When the blood was no longer tainted with venom, my arousal heightened to an intensity that was very nearly pain. The monster within me was gloating over its victory; it was getting what it had been so ferociously craving. At that moment, she was no longer Bella. She was simply "the girl," as I had referred to her when I had first encountered her. She was no longer human. She was simply a sacrifice to my monster. I was utterly lost in my euphoria, completely consumed. It was too late for her— my nature won out over my humanity, which would now be gone forever, so that only the monster in me remained.

I had very nearly been overcome by my frenzy, until a new taste brought me back to the moment. It was the metallic tinge of the morphine, a reminder of my purpose, a reawakening of my senses that recalled what I would be losing if I were to truly indulge my monster by sucking Bella dry. And it conjured up a different desire—not exactly deeper, but somehow more powerful. The two warring urges battled hard, but in the end, my supernatural love for Bella conquered my bloodlust, and I wrenched my face away from her arm, physically exhausted for the first time in my new life.

When her body had stopped thrashing I couldn't say, but by the time I pulled away from her, she was still. Her breathing was even, and despite her battered body, her face was peaceful.

"Edward," she breathed, her exhausted voice barely audible.

"He's right here, Bella," Carlisle answered for me. Like Bella, I was too exhausted to speak. But I had done it. This remarkable girl had changed me so entirely that I actually denied my nature face-to-face. She was extraordinary, and made me extraordinary too.

"Stay, Edward. Stay with me…"

By some beautiful miracle, she still wanted me. After everything. It seemed too perfect to be real. But I mustered my strength to speak the words that would assure her. "I will," I said.

"Is it all out?" Carlisle asked quietly.

"Her blood tastes clean. I can taste the morphine."

"Bella?" Carlisle asked gently.

"Mmmm?" she hummed, so exhausted that it hurt me to watch her.

"Is the fire gone?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Thank you, Edward."

I couldn't accept her gratitude. I didn't deserve it. I couldn't respond except to fervently declare the purest truth that had ever been spoken: "I love you."

"I know," she mumbled. Her characteristically unexpected response made my heart sing, and I heard myself chuckle with relief.

Her eyes closed.

"Bella?" Carlisle persisted. All I wanted to do was let her sleep, but, of course, Carlisle's question was critical.

Her eyes squeezed tighter and her mouth turned down, but she was too spent for her voice to sound severe. "What?" she asked feebly.

"Where is your mother?"

"In Florida." Florida? "He tricked me, Edward. He watched our videos," she whimpered. I didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but I would find out soon enough. The important thing was that her mother was safe. Once my brothers started the fire, James would be gone forever, never to harm Bella or her family again. They readied the gasoline and matches.

"Alice," she said, lifting her eyelids as far as she could to find her face. I was impatient; I wanted the poor thing to rest. Besides, I had to get her out of there before the fire started. Emmett and Jasper were already pouring the gasoline.

"Alice—the video," Bella continued. "He knew you, Alice, he knew where you came from." I wasn't coherent enough to register the gravity of this development, but I would work through it soon enough. Right now was all about Bella. She wrinkled her nose slightly. "I smell gasoline," she stated, confused.

"It's time to move her," Carlisle urged.

"No, I want to sleep," she begged, obviously too tired to know that I would take care of her.

"You can sleep, sweetheart," I assured her. I gathered her fluidly in my arms, my eyes never leaving her face, never more grateful to hold her close. Her eyes had already closed, and I kissed her forehead as she drifted. "Sleep now, Bella." And as I walked out of the studio, the mirrors caught my attention. Behind me, Jasper silently handed a bemused Alice a video tape. And then I saw a nightmarish face reproduced two hundred and thirty three times in the broken mirrors. Against the blazing backdrop of blood red flames, two rust-colored eyes stared out at me from beneath my own brow reflected in the glass.


End file.
